


Encircled

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Post Season 1, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Bill comes to visit Holden after he returns from Vacaville. Events transpire. (Takes place a few days after the S1 finale.)





	Encircled

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a Mindhunters fic. Season 1 spoilers.

Bill was furious at him. Nothing new there, except that for once Holden could marshal no clever words or justifications to defend his actions.

The latest trip to Vacaville – his last, he swore to himself – had altered everything. All the interviews during the past year had opened up a window onto the horrors one human could visit on another, but now the universe had shifted that much more, scraping away the paper-thin barrier between those horrors and his own naïve assumption that he could remain immune to them.

After his collapse – after Kemper – he’d reassembled himself (a temporary patch job at best) and limped home, wanting nothing more than to shut the door on the world, turn the lock, and begin the task of recovering his equilibrium, if that was even possible. Unable to sleep, he’d paced through the rooms of his apartment for three days, obsessively checking and rechecking every room, every conceivable hiding place, to make sure he was alone.

Then Bill had shown up to barge his way in, stalking resolutely towards Holden, looking as if he wanted to punch him in the face, or grab him and shake him until his skeleton chattered inside his skin.

He backed Holden all the way up to the sofa, regarding him flatly, pummeling him with his gaze. Holden’s knees folded, and he dropped to the cushion with only slightly more grace than when he’d crumpled to the floor outside Kemper’s hospital room. He stared up at his partner with his breath trapped in his lungs and no idea what to say to him.

“God damn it, Ford.” Bill loomed over him, thick and solid and seething. “Haven’t the past few weeks taught you anything? No, don’t answer that, because obviously they have not.” He turned away, tightly wound, pacing up and down the length of the living room.

With the slight distance between them, Holden loosened his shoulders, able to breathe once more. He was faintly shocked to realize how much Bill’s opinion of him mattered. When had that happened? And how much did Bill actually know about what had happened at Vacaville?

Bill paused with his back to Holden, hands on hips, shaking his head as if he simply could not comprehend the fathomless depths of Holden’s stupidity. Unlike Holden, he had seen the truth all along, been clear-eyed and wary of the evil in the men they studied, had understood the risks of letting them too close.

He owed Bill an apology, or at least acknowledgement of his superior judgment.

He owed him something.

Holden pushed himself up off the sofa and crossed the room to stand behind Bill, his sock-clad feet whispering across the carpet. Lifting one hand, he let it hover inches from Bill’s broad back. For months on the road, in one cheap motel after another, he’d stared at that back, turned to him where Bill snored in the next bed over. He’d itched to touch him, to feel the muscles tense and jump underneath his fingertips. Now, he yearned to avail himself of that steady strength, to place his palm on Bill’s back in order to ground himself.

Bill pivoted to face him, catching him standing too close with his hand raised incriminatingly, which elicited the look Holden had become familiar with over the past months: exasperation, amusement and, Holden was certain, a glimmer of fondness. Holden snapped his arm back to his side, hand balled into a fist.

“Kemper baited you, you get that, right?” Bill’s voice was soft and raspy, scratching along Holden’s suddenly too sensitive nerve endings.

Shame washed through Holden. He’d been so foolish, so arrogantly convinced he had Kemper and the rest of the monsters all figured out. Kemper had played him expertly. And then he’d –

Holden shuddered. The phantom sensation of Kemper’s arms tight around him still repulsed him, even at the safe distance of nearly three thousand miles. It made him want to get back in the shower and scrub and scrub until his skin turned red and raw.

“Ford?”

“Yeah. Yes. I do get that.” Trying not to appear too obvious, he eased back one step, and then another, reestablishing distance between them. “I’m fine, though. No harm done.”

Nothing permanent. Just some non-consensual bad touch. No skulls or necks had been fucked during the encounter, so take the win, right?

Bill followed him. One step. Another. His hand latched onto Holden’s shoulder, squeezing, probably attempting to convey comfort. Holden shivered and bit his lip. Too much compassion shone in Bill’s gaze. _God._ He knew. He must have heard about Holden’s humiliating collapse in the hallway outside the prison hospital. Fucking guards loved to gossip, didn’t they?

Another full body shudder wracked him. “I’m fine,” he repeated weakly.

“Right.” Bill’s eyes continued to dissect Holden, shrewd and devastatingly kind. “Shepard expects you back at your desk next week. We’re both still under review until the OPR makes its ruling. Me? I think it’ll all blow over eventually. In the meantime, no more road trips. No more interviews.” A beat. “Possibly no more Wendy.”

“What? They can’t fire her. She’s integral – ”

“They won’t fire her. She’s talked about quitting, though.”

“Why?”

“She’s pretty pissed at you. At us.”

“At me.”

Bill didn’t contradict him. His hand remained where it was, a solid weight on Holden’s shoulder. Heat leached into him, pleasant at first, and then something else. Something more. Something dangerous that had him hastily throwing up internal barricades.

_Too late._

Thank goodness his sweatpants were loose enough to camouflage his burgeoning erection.

 “Ford.” Then, more quietly, “Holden.”

Holden bowed his head. When the fingers tightened on his shoulder, weighing more heavily, an overwhelming urge to fall to his knees gripped him. He locked his knees and remained upright.

“You drive me crazy,” Bill murmured. “No one gets under my skin like you do. What am I going to do with you?”

_Anything you want._

For once, Holden censored his reply, but only incrementally. “What do you want to do with me?”

A soft exhalation from Bill. Disbelief? Or relief that finally, finally, they had arrived at this moment?

Seconds ticked by as Bill scrutinized Holden’s face, searching for the correct response. Regret touched his features.

“Look, Holden, neither of us are free agents, here.”

“Debbie and I are through.” He made the admission too quickly. Too eagerly.

Bill frowned. “When did this happen?”

“A week ago. It doesn’t matter.”

Bill’s other hand crept up to settle on Holden’s other shoulder. His blue eyes flooded Holden with his concern. “Of course it matters. She was good for you. Nancy and I both liked her.”

 _Nancy._ Bill and Nancy were a unit. A team. They had a son together, for cripes sake. Knowing all this, still Holden was not deterred. Resolutely ignoring the unpleasant Kemper vibes Bill’s close hold stirred up in him, Holden pushed his face forward, too quickly for Bill to take evasive action, and smashed his mouth to Bill’s.

Bill made a startled _mmph_ , but remained planted where he was, as massive and fixed as a mountain. For moments that stretched too long, it felt to Holden as if he was kissing cold, hard marble.

Then the marble warmed, moved subtly underneath Holden’s mouth.

What had felt like reticence a second earlier exploded into heat and hunger and desperate need. Lips softened and molded together. Tongues, brazen and questing, advanced and retreated and merged in a damp, rough tangle. Holden relaxed, beginning to melt under Bill’s touch.

Bill shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Holden.

_No._

Panic.

Flashback to Vacaville, and Kemper, and –

Holden yanked his mouth away, lurched backwards, off-balance, breaking free of the circle of Bill’s arms. He kept stumbling, back and back, breath coming in great, heaving gasps that were too close to sobs.

“Holden?” Worried. Confused. A touch of cautious hurt.

It was the hurt – and the feel of the sofa behind his calves – that made Holden freeze and choke out the truth he’d withheld from everybody else, because there had been no witnesses.

“He touched me. Kemper did.”

A beat of silence. “He … touched you how, exactly?”

“Ah. He was talking, and … you know what he can be like. It was like he was hypnotizing me. A … a cobra weaving back and forth in front of me, and I was too foolish to know it was time to run. We were alone. No guards. No doctor or medical staff. And he grabbed me. Wrapped me up in his arms and hugged me. _Hugged_.” His voice broke on the word. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping his palms over damp eyes.

“I was sure he was going to kill me. I didn’t know what he was going to do. He let me go and I … I ran. The big, tough FBI special agent bolted out of there like a frightened rabbit. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. Everything inside me seemed to just shut down, shut off. I couldn’t even stay on my feet. I’m surprised I didn’t piss myself. I could have. I couldn’t have stopped myself. I … I …”

Holden dropped to the sofa once more and clawed at the collar of his t-shirt, feeling as if it was choking him.

“Holden,” Bill whispered. “Baby.” He took a seat next to Holden, but kept a careful distance, and didn’t force contact. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Holden shook his head, back and forth and back and forth, out of rhythm, like a busted metronome counting off the beats to a frenetic piece of ugly, modern jazz. “No. I’m not. I fucked up because my arrogance knows no bounds. Knew. Past tense. You tried to tell me, didn’t you? Why didn’t I listen? You obviously understood more than I ever could. I only heard their words in a vacuum, as if these terrible acts they described didn’t exist in the real world, but you saw it all. You understood the threat they posed. I’m an idiot. How can you ever trust me again? How can I ever trust myself? I think … I think I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and covered his face with his hands.

Subtle movement beside him, and then Bill’s leg pressed against his, and Bill’s hand touched his back, rubbing, circling, offering comfort and reassurance in the same way he probably offered it to his son.

But Holden wasn’t his son. The kiss had proven that.

_God. That kiss._

Holden shivered and uncovered his face. Bill was right there, watching him, blue eyes bright, and intelligent, and so, so incredibly beautiful.

“Does Nancy know you’re here?” Holden blurted, and then cringed inwardly at his own words. Why bring Nancy up? He knew the answer, though. If this went any further, it wouldn’t be because Bill conveniently forgot, for an hour or two, that he was married. It would be in spite of the fact that he could never forget.

Bill didn’t retreat, but something that looked an awful lot like pain flickered in his eyes. “While you were away, she took Brian and left.”

“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Maybe they’ll be back. Maybe they won’t.” He traced his thumb along the side of Holden’s jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Holden heard how shocked and affronted he’d sounded and tried to modulate his voice into a more neutral tone. “She’s you wife, Bill. How can it not matter?”

“I mean, it doesn’t matter to this. To us.” His broad chest heaved up and down, and he caressed Holden’s shoulder.

“Us?”

“You know what’s happening here. What’s been happening.”

Holden struggled against the full-body shivers that threatened to give away the enormity of his want. “Maybe you need to spell it out for me.”

Bill’s brow wrinkled as he strove to interpret what Holden was trying to tell him.

“Maybe,” said Holden, “I trust your judgment over my own right now.”

A quirk of a smile lightened Bill’s granite features, an unexpected gift, just like every rare smile he bestowed upon the world. “That’s good. And about goddamn time.”

Holden was shivering openly now, and it wasn’t from the cold, or because he was afraid. Well, maybe a little afraid. Mostly, it was from stark want. He longed for another kiss, but he wouldn’t initiate it this time. Anything they did from here on out would be at Bill’s direction.

Holden licked his lips, an involuntary action, and saw Bill’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare, as if scenting him. Once again, he was reminded of Kemper, but didn’t recoil, just let that knowledge sit there while he inventoried their similarities in his mind.

Bill and Ed. Both men were physically big in a way that overwhelmed the senses. He’d run from Ed but had no desire to run from Bill. Ed was a monster, and Bill … ? It had taken months of them working together, but Holden had finally come to realize that despite a surface gruffness, Bill was one of the kindest men he’d ever known.

“Hey.” A thick finger prodded him under his chin, lifting his face. “That’s some deep thinking you’re doing over there.”

Holden licked his lips again.

Bill tapped his finger against Holden’s forehead. “I want you out of there. No more thinking.”

“Ever?”

Exasperation reappeared. Goddamn, Holden loved that look.

“No. Just for now. Just for the next hour or so.”

Nodding, Holden forced himself to relax, to make himself the proverbial putty in Bill’s hands. Almost as if he’d read his mind – or his body language – Bill’s eye’s darkened. With one hand on Holden’s face and the other on his elbow, he leaned in and captured his lips for a slow, dirty kiss. He turned his body as if to press Holden back into the sofa cushions, seemed to think better of it, and stretched onto his back with one foot on the ground, drawing Holden down to lie on top of him.

“Mmm,” Bill murmured. “You taste so sweet. Kiss me. Grind yourself against me.”

Excited by the note of command in Bill’s voice, Holden did as he’d ordered, kissing him with a desperation he’d never felt for anyone before, not even Debbie on their wildest nights. He arched his back and moved his hips sinuously, rubbing off against Bill, who – _hello_ – was as hard as he was. Bill’s hands cupped his ass, tightening the contact.

Holden abandoned any semblance of gracefulness and humped roughly, breaking the kiss and jamming his face against Bill’s neck. Sounds escaped him which he barely recognized as his own – frantic grunts,  hungry mewls and whines.

Holden wedged a hand between them, reaching for the top button of his jeans, but Bill’s hands came down over his, halting him.

“Uh uh,” Bill murmured. “Just like this. Rut until you come in your pants.”

“ _Ohgod,_ ” gasped Holden, so turned on he felt as if he glowed with the heat of it. His hips jerked and thrust, chasing his orgasm. It wasn’t much of a race.

He clutched Bills shoulders so tightly he was probably leaving bruises, but he didn’t care. Bill didn’t seem to care either. He whispered hotly in Holden’s ear, urging him on with filthy suggestions and images. Holden was consumed by the moment, senses filled with nothing but the feel and scent of Bill and his own spiraling need.

“ _Please,”_ he grated, and then as if in response to his own entreaty, his hips sped up, moving like a piston. He wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck, made a sound with his mouth wide open, something like a pained gasp that turned to a groan, vibrating deep in his chest as he came hard. He sucked in a hiccupping breath and panted low curses into Bill’s jugular while he shook and shook against Bill’s massive, solid form.

When the last of the tremors subsided and he finally stopped moving, all the tension which had built in the last few minutes – in the last few days, the last weeks and months – all of that had fled his body in strong spurts that drenched his underwear and the crotch of his pants and left him limp and drained and blissfully relaxed.

Best of all, he mused as his consciousness drifted lazily back down to rejoin his body, for those long, ecstatic moments his brain had gone utterly quiet. All that existed was Bill, and the moment, and the jangle of his own crazed heart knocking in unpredictable counterpoint against the steady thud in Bill’s chest.

“Did you come?” he slurred, already halfway asleep. “I’ll suck you.”

Strong, warm hands stroked down his back. “Later. For now, just tell me you’re not leaving, that you’ll be back at work after your suspension ends.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

Bill’s approving hum vibrated through him. “That’s what I like to hear. And right now? I want you to get some sleep.” He held Holden loosely in the circle of his arms, and it felt like safety.

“Mmmph,” Holden mumbled, and slept.

 

**The End.**


End file.
